635 



F>F2ICB 25 CEMTS 




ATCHISON, KANSAS 

J. R. HELLENER & CO. 



Successful Rural Plays 

A Strong List From Which to Select Your 
Next Play 

FARM FOLKS. A Rural Play in Four Acts, by Arthur 
Lewis Tubes. For five male and six female characters. Time 
of playing, two hours and a half. One simple exterior, two 
easy interior scenes. Costumes, modern. Flora Goodwin, a 
farmer's daughter, is engaged to Philip Burleigh, a young New 
Yorker. Philip's mother wants him to marry a society woman, 
and by falsehoods makes Flora believe Philip does not love her. 
Dave Weston, who wants Flora himself, helps the deception by 
intercepting a letter from Philip to Flora. She agrees to marry 
Dave, but on the eve of their marriage Dave confesses, Philip 
learns the truth, and he and Flora are reunited. It is a simple 
plot, but full of speeches and situations that sway an audience 
alternately to tears and to laughter. 

HOME TIES. A Rural Play in Four Acts, by Arthur 
Lewis Tubes. Characters, four male, five female. Plays two 
hours and a half. Scene, a simple interior — same for all four 
acts. Costumes, modern. One of the strongest plays Mr. Tubbs 
has written. Martin Winn's wife left him when his daughter 
Ruth was a baby. Harold Vincent, the nephew and adopted son 
of the man who has wronged Martin, makes love to Ruth Winn. 
She is also loved by Len Everett, a prosperous young farmer. 
When Martin discovers who Harold is, he orders him to leave 
Ruth. Harold, who does not love sincerely, yields. Ruth dis- 
covers she loves Len, but thinks she has lost him also. Then 
he comes back, and Ruth finds her happiness. 

THE OLD NEW HAMPSHIRE HOME. A New 

England Drama in Three Acts, by Frank Dumont. For seven 
males and four females. Time, two hours and a half. Costumes, 
modern. A play with a strong heart interest and pathos, yet rich 
in humor. Easy to act and very effective. A rural drama of 
the "Old Homstead" and "Way Down East" type. Two ex- 
terior scenes, one interior, all easy to set. Full of strong sit- 
uations and delightfully humorous passages. The kind of a play 
everybody understands and likes. 

THE OLD DAIRY HOMESTEAD. A Rural Comedy 
in Three Acts, by Fr.^nk Dumont. For five males and four 
females. Time, two hours. Rural costumes. Scenes rural ex- 
terior and interior. An adventurer obtains a large sum of money 
from a farm house through the intimidation of the farmer's 
niece, whose husband he claims to be. Her escapes from the 
wiles of the villain and his female accomplice are both starting, 
and novel. 

A WHITE MOUNTAIN BOY. A Strong Melodrama in 
Five Acts, by Charles Townsend. For seven males and four 
females, and three supers. Time, two hours and twenty minutes. 
One exterior, three interiors. Costumes easy. The hero, a 
country lad, twice saves the life of a banker's daughter, which 
results in their betrothal. A scoundrelly clerk has the banker 
in his power, but the White Mountain boy finds a way to check- 
mate his schemes, saves the banker, and wins the girl. 



Trying Them Out 

A Comedy in One Act 



By 
LILLIAN STOLL 



ATCHISON, KANSAS 

J, R. HELLENER & CO. 
1921 






Copyright 1921 by J. R. Hellener and Company 



Trying Them Out ^^ 

OCI.D 57 J 29 



MAR I 7 m\ 



Trying Them Out 



CAST OF CHARACTERS 

Bill The office hoy 

Mr. Brown The manager 

Miss Sally Allen An old maid 

Mrs. Mary Due A widow 

Miss Covington A social butterfly 

Miss Hall A stenographer 

Time. — Forty minutes. 



STORY OF THE PLAY 

Mr. Brown, manager of a woollen firm, advertises 
for an expert stenographer. The first applicant is an 
old maid who informs Mr. Brown just what she will 
and will not do. Mr. Brown meekly says that he 
doesn't believe he will suit her. Mrs. Mary Due, a 
widow, applies, but her English and spelling are so bad 
that she is dismissed. Miss Covington, who tells all 
about her family tree, arrives next but does not get the 
position. Miss Hall, a good stenographer, applies and 
shows how to be businesslike. Under her influence 
even the office boy changes his habits. The purpose of 
the play is educational as well as amusing. A number 
of points on business ethics are brought out. 



COSTUMES, ETC. 

Bill. About fifteen. Wears the garb of a fresh 
office boy. 

Mr. Brown. About thirty. Dressed very neatly in 
street suit. 

Miss Allen. About forty-five. Dressed old maid- 
ish and eccentric. 

Mrs. Due. About twenty-five. Wears very gaudy 
clothes and jewelry, chews gum, and carries a small 
dog. 

Miss Covington. About twenty-five. Wears very 
fussy clothes and a large picture hat. 

Miss Hall. About twenty-five. Dressed in neat 
blue tailored suit and small hat. 



PROPERTIES 



Duster for office boy. Telephone. Typewriter. 
Two desks and one for typewriter. Three chairs. 
Hat-rack. Small dog. Dictionary. Bouquet of flowers. 



SCENE PLOT 




There is only one scene and this represents the in- 
terior of an office. 



Trying Them Out 



SCENE. — A business office. 

{Curtain rises on office boy dusting the room.) 

Bill. I sure am tired this morning. But that was 
a fine picture show last night. It must be great to be 
a movie star. Here I am dusting and running errands 

in an old office. I {Telephone rings. Bill goes 

to 'phone.) Hello, hello, what do you want? He's 
busy — Yes, I'll tell him you're sick and won't be down 
to-day — No'm I won't forget. (Sits down at desk.) 
Now just because I want to go to a ball game this after- 
noon somebody's got to get sick; well, I'll get sick too. 
I guess I'll call Jimmy and see if he can go. Hello, 
Central, how are you this morning? Give me B8921. 
Hello, Jimmy, going to the game? — Ah, tell him your 
grandmother's dead. Come on and go. You bet I'm 
going. Sure, I'll meet you at the drug store. Sure. 
No, I can't come down the street now. The boss has 
advertised for a new stenographer and I've got to 
stick around to see what she'll look like. No, Miss 
Johns got married. So long. 

(Enter Manager Brown from the door marked 
"private.") 

Brown. Bill, here is some copy I'd like to have you 
take down to the printer's when you go to the bank. 
Have fifty copies made. Where is Adams this morn- 
ing? {Looks at Adams' desk.) 

Bill. Oh, he 'phoned and said he was sick and 

5 



6 TRYING THEM OUT 

you'd find the orders that had to be gotten out in his 
desk. 

Brown. What next, and I'm swamped with work. 
Here it has been three days and not a single answer to 
my advertisement for a stenographer. {Sits down at 
Adams' desk and picks tip some papers on the desk.) 
Miss Johns was a fine stenographer and expert ones are 
scarcer than hen's teeth. Just about the time you get 
a stenographer where she knows something she decides 
to get married. About the only way to keep one these 
days is to marry her yourself. Here, Bill, you can sort 
these orders alphabetically. (Goes into private office.) 

Bill. All right, (Bill sits at Adams' desk and 
picks up paper.) Oh, what's this? Don'ts for Em- 
ployees. (Bill reads and gives his own comment on 
each one.) " Don't be late." No, but the high mogul 
can be. " Don't watch the clock." Oh, you don't say. 
Work overtime. " Don't gossip." Oh, no, you might 
hurt somebody's feelings. " Don't use the telephone 
for private conversations." Well, that's the only way 
I can make my dates. " Don't overdress but put 
enough on." Poor little georgettes. " Don't fail to 
dress neatly." Oh, yes, press your trousers every 
night, shine your shoes, get out a clean collar and shirt, 
wash your face and then if any time is left go to bed. 
" Don't chew gum." I suppose he thinks it looks 
tough. (Bill chews his furiously.) " Don't stay out 
late nights." Well, I bet he's from a nine o'clock town. 
" Don't fail to be cheerful." Smile, dearie, smile. 
" Don't " 

{The boss enters the room carrying letters and Bill 
gets busy at orders. ) 

Brown. Bill, can you run a typewriter? 

Bill. No, nothing but a Ford. 

Brown. Well, I guess I'll have to try it myself. 
(Brown has difficulty getting paper in and finally be- 
gins to pick out letters on machine. He makes a mis- 
take, frozvns; stops to erase, makes more mistakes and 
finally throws carriage back in disgust.) Oh, Bill, get 



TRYING THEM OUT *;; 

over here and see if you can find these dainty little keys 
any better than I can. 

Bill. Oh, I don't know anything about a type- 
writer. (Bill goes to machine. Knock is heard at 
the door. Brown goes over and works at his desk. 
Bill goes to door.) Gee, I hope that's a stenographer, 

(Enter old maid, Miss Sally Allen.) 

Old Maid. Is the manager in? 

Bill. There's his desk over there. 

Old Maid. Some people think they're awful fresh. 

Brown. Good-morning. 

(Offers Old Maid a chair.) 

Old Maid. Good-morning. I saw your advertise- 
ment and so I've come to see how it suits me. First, I 
would like to know if you smoke ? 

Brown. No, ma'am. 

Bill (who is supposed to be working at orders on 
Adams' desk). Oh, oh no. 

Old Maid. Do you chew ? 

Bill (aside). Nothing but my food. 

Old Maid. Do you drink? 

Brown. No. 

Bii.J^ (aside). Nothing but water. 

Old Maid. Oh — a — do you swear? 

Brown. I think not. 

Old Maid. Do you ever lie ? 

Brown. Oh, occasionally. 

Old Maid. Well, I want you to understand right 
now, sir, that I have always been treated like a lady and 
I never expect to be treated otherwise. And another 
thing, I have never been used to hearing profanity in 
any way, shape or form, and don't expect to begin any 
new habits. 

Bill (gets up and starts to dust; aside). No, you 
can't teach an old dog new tricks. 

Brown. No, certainly not, ma'am. 

Old Maid. Now I want to know what you expect 



8 TRYING THEM OUT 

of your stenographers. For instance, how many words 
do you require I should write a minute ? 

Bill {knocks hook off of desk with duster). Oh, 
gol darn it 

Old Maid (holding ears). How shocking. {To 
Brown.) Sir, how can you stand to hear such lan- 
guage ? 

Brown. Be quiet, Bill. 

Bill. All right. 

Old Maid. That young ruffian never learnt that at 
Sunday-school. — Well, how many words did you say I 
was to write a minute? 

Brown. Well, ma'am, I don't think it would be ask- 
ing too much to have you write, say one hundred words 
a minute. 

Old Maid. Well of all things; at my last place I 
never wrote over twenty-five words a minute. 

Bill. I bet that's why she didn't stay. 

Old Maid. Now I can show you my letter of rec- 
ommendation if you like. Here it says — to show that 
Miss Sally Allen 

Brown. Oh, yes, I'm sure your recommendations 
are all right. 

Old Maid. And how many hours are required for 
work? 

Brown. Well, you will have about seventy-five let- 
ters to transcribe every day. 

Old Maid. Seventy-five letters ? You surely don't 
believe in the eight-hour law. How much for over- 
time? 

Bill {out loud). Overtime? Who ever heard of 
overtime in this office ? 

Old Maid. How many men have you working in 
your office ? 

Brown. About thirteen at present, ma'am. 

Old Maid. And are any of them flirtified? You 
know I couldn't stand to be winked at or anything like 
that. {Looks at office boy.) 

Brown. Oh, my men are all very prudent men, but 
really, madam, / don't believe I would suit you. 



TRYING THEM OUT 9 

Old Maid {leaving). No, I hardly think so. I 
knew the minute I stepped inside that a well-refined 
lady like me could never live through a day in an office 
like this. {Goes out and slams door behind her.) 

Bill. Now, wasn't she a bird? Say, Mr. Brown, 
what did she say about me and going to Sunday school ? 

Brown. Oh, nothing. 

{A knock is heard at the door.) 

Bill. I hope that's a real stenographer. 

{Goes to door.) 

Brown. For goodness' sake, Bill, please put your 
company manners on if it's a stenographer. 

{Enter Mrs. Mary Due — dressed very outlandish and 
carrying a small zvhite poodle.) 

Mrs. Due. Good-morning. I seen your advertise- 
ment in the Morning Sun for an expert stenographer. 

Bill {very flozvery). Yes, madam. I will call the 
manager. {Walks over to Brown and she follows.) 

Brown. Good-morning ; just be seated here. 

Mrs. Due. I seen your advertisement so I thought 
I'd drop in and talk to you. You know I really don't 
have to work, but my late husband just died and I 
thought work would take the terrible tragedy from my 
mind. You have no idea unless you have lost yourself 
what a dreadful blow it is to lose your life helpmate, 
and now all I have left is dear little Tootsie. I take 
him with me everywhere I go. Do you like dogs, 
Mr. — er — er 

Brown. My name is Brown. 

Mrs. Due. Oh, yes, yes, Brown is a very charming 
name. I like it very much. My name is Mrs. Mary 
Due. 

Bill {aside). Mrs. Mary Do Tell of Dew Drop 
Inn. 

Mrs. Due. It's very short and easy to remember 
and that is one thing I 

Brown. Yes, I think so too, Mrs. Due, but what 
experience have you had as a stenographer? 



10 TRYING THEM OUT 

Mrs. Due. Oh, no experience whatever. You see 
I just graduated from business college, but my grades 
zvas excellent. They told me at the school there was 
no more like me ever in the history of the school. 

Bill. I hope not. 

Brown. I'd like to try you on some dictation, Mrs. 
Due, and see what you can do before I employ you. I 
am quite anxious to get this letter out. 

Mrs. Due {nervously). Oh, yes, yes, Mr. Brown. 
I'm just a little nervous since my dear husband died. 

{Sohs.) 

Brown. Oh, yes, Mrs. Due, but here is the letter. 
(Mrs. Due takes pencil off his ear and seats herself 
at his desk.) Mr. J. M. Morse, Newark, N. J. Dear 

Sir 

Mrs. Due. Just a minute, please. 

{Fluffs her hair and smiles at Brown.) 

Brown {looks disgusted). Dear Sir: I have your 
favor of the 12th instant and in reply will say that I 
have just received your check for ten thousand dollars. 

Mrs. Due {aside). Ten thousand dollars, what a 
lot of money — he's the man for me. 

Brown. I have heard from Mr. U. R. Green that 
there is a 

Mrs. Due. U. R. Green, what a funny name. 
Brown is so much nicer. 

Brown. Shortage of woollen goods 

Mrs. Due {sighs and looks at her dog). Again, 
please, Mr. Brown — I'm a little nervous — I've had such 
a tragedy in losing my husband. 

Bill. No wonder he died. I bet he committed sui- 
cide. 

Brown. I have heard that there is a shortage of 
woollen goods on account of the prevailing epidemic. 

Mrs. Due. What ? Epidemic ? How do vou spell 
it? 

Brown. E-p-i-d-e-m-i-c. 

Mrs. Due. Oh, dear, I hope there will not be an- 



TRYING THEM OUT II 

Other flu epidemic — 1 might lose Tootsie. You know, 
Mr. Brown, I have decided I never will marry again. 

Bill. No, I don't think so either. I will now sing 
that little ditty entitled, " He Sleeps in the Valley," 
by request. 

Brown. Hoping to hear from you if you have 
heard anything in regard to this report. I am. Yours 
truly. Now, Mrs. Due, while you are transcribing that 
letter I will attend to some work in the adjoining room, 
I think you will find stationery and envelopes at your 
disposal in this desk. {She looks at him wonder'mgly.) 
Bill, I want you to run down to the bank and deposit 
these checks. 

{Exit Brown and Bill. Bill waves good-bye.) 

Mrs. Due {now alone). Isn't he a dear! Ten 
thousand dollars. I know I'll like it here. He didn't 
say a word about salary. Oh, well, Tootsie, you soon 
can have beefsteak every day. I'll just have to call up 
Katie. {Goes to telephone.) L9382 — Hello, Katie — 
Oh, Katie, I've jest landed a swell position. A Mr. 
Brown — Perfectly handsome. Tall, slender — wonder- 
ful gray eyes — and hair divine — He's rich, too, I know. 
Oh, Katie — Oh yes, I have to get busy — Tootsie says 
good-bye too. Why, of course, I have him with me. 
Good-bye. {Goes to machine.) Now to get that hor- 
rid old letter out. I never did like to typewrite. If the 
principal of that old business college could only see me 
now. He said I never could hold down a job, but I'll 
show him. {Starts to put paper in machine. It goes 
in wrong. She tears it out and puts in another. Fi- 
nally gets it in and starts to typezvrite, using the hen 
and peck system. Makes a mistake.) This old type- 
writer certainly isn't any good. I never did like these 
old Wood-unders. I wish he'd get an Oliver. {Starts 
to erase and tears a hole in the paper.) Such cheap 
paper. {Takes out the paper and puts in another 
piece. Typewrites, saying words out loud.) Mr. 
Jimmy Norman, Newfork, N. Y. Dear me, how do 
you spell Newfork? Where is the dictionary? 



Ig TRYING THEM OUT 

N-e-u Such a dictionary, doesn't even have 

Newfork in it. Oh well, it don't matter, the postmas- 
ter will know what I mean. He is a friend of mine. 

{Makes more mistakes and erases. The office hoy 
enters with mail, so she stops talking. They glance 
at each other and make faces. She pecks away. 
Enter boss,) 

Brown. Well, Mrs. Due, is the letter finished? 
Mrs. Due. Just a minute, please. 

(Hands him the letter ivJiich he holds up to audlence% 
It is torn and fidl of erasure holes.) 

Brown (reads letter aloud). Mr. Jimmy Norman 
Newfork N. J. Dear Sirs : I have your fever this in- 
stand 12 times in haste I have checked $10,000. I have 
heard Mr. that you are green and there is shorts in 
women's goods. Please let me hear if the epidemic is 
with you. Hopping down the gate I am Yours unruly. 
Why, Mrs. Due — you are no stenographer. Just look 
at this paper full of holes and misspelled words. It's 
dreadful. I couldn't possibly keep you. 

Mrs. Due. Who asked you to? That's just how 
unreasonable you men are. When I had corn beef and 
cabbage my husband always wanted something else, 
and when I wore a red dress he wanted me to wear a 
blue one. I wouldn't work for any one as discourteous 
as you are. Neither of you are gentlemen. I wouldn't 
even let Tootsie associate with you. 

(Flounces out. Brown falls hack in chair. Bill 
sings. ) 

Bill (sings). " Oh where, oh where has my little 
dog gone ; oh where, oh where can he be ? " 

(Another knock is heard. Brown is working at the 
desk. Enter Miss Evangeline Evelyn Covington, 
dressed in afternoon gozun and picture hat, carrying 
a parasol.) 

Miss Covington. Good-morning. I'd like to have 
a conference with the proprietor. 



TRYING THEM OUT I3 

Bill. Yes, madam. 

Miss Covington. Beg your pardon, boy — I am a 
Mademoiselle. 

Bill. Oh oui. 

Miss Covington. As I said before, I'd like a con- 
ference with the proprietor. 

(Brown comes forward.) 

Brown. Good-morning. 

Miss Covington. You are the proprietor? 

Brown. Yes. 

Miss Covington. I am Miss Evangeline Evelyn 
Covington, the daughter of the late Captain John Jacob 
Covington, who was distinguished for bravery twice 
during the Civil War. My family have all been brave 
and fearless warriors. 

Brown. I understand. (Aside.) I wonder what 
she wants. 

Bill. I bet she's collecting for some war society. 

(Sneaks out.) 

Miss Covington. So you see I am used to being 
associated with very gallant and courageous men. 

Brown. Yes, yes, but 

Miss Covington. So if I should decide to accept a 
position in your office you can see what position I 
would maintain in keeping with my social status. 

Brown. Oh, I now understand you are interested 
in the position of stenographer in my office. 

Miss Covington. Interested is hardly the word, 
sir — I am doingthis for the cause of humanity. I 
realize that expert stenographers are scarce, so I have 
at last consented to give a few hours of my time to 
menial labors. Now as to salary — I should not think 
forty dollars a week would be too much. I would 
work from say ten to twelve and one to three. That 
would give me ample time to keep my social position as 
a Covington. 

Brown. I suppose you at your age have had consid- 
erable experience in the business world. 



g:4 TRYING THEM OUT 

Miss Covington. Indeed, none whatever. I tell 
you my family have all been warriors and gallant men 
of valor and I shall work for men only of that class. 

Brown. Bill, oh Bill! (Bill comes in. Brown 
looks at him and winks. ) Bill, will you go down to the 
police station and see if any of our men have been 
locked up for the night ? 

Miss Covington. Police station 

Brown. Yes, Miss Covington, the employees of 
this office are a bold, bad set of men who spend at least 
seven nights out of the week in the police station. 

Miss Covington. Oh! (Screams.) I am dis- 
graced for life, and to think I should be the cause of 
the downfall of my family, I have entered the office 
of a criminal. 

(Exits.) 

Brown. I thought that would bring her to time. 
I'll be a raving maniac before the day is over. Bill, I 
leave the rest with you. You decide who shall and 
shall not see me. This is my busy day ; first it's an old 
maid who tells me what she will do and then a widow 
with a sob story, and then a social butterfly with a gal- 
lant family tree. I'll be in my private office. 

(Exit Brown. Bill sits down, puts his feet on man- 
ager's desk and starts to whistle. A knock is 
heard. ) 

(Enter Miss Katherine Hall, neatly dressed and a 
businesslike person. At her appearance, the office 
hoy assumes a gentleman-like attitude.) 

Miss Hall. Good-morning. 

Bill. Good-morning. 

Miss Hall. I should like to see the manager. 

Bill. Mr. Brown, a lady to see you. 

(Brown comes forth.) 

Brown. Good-morning. 

Miss Hall. Good-morning. Miss Hall is my 



TRYING THEM OUT I5 

name. I came to inquire if the position of stenog- 
rapher in your office has been filled. 

Brown. No, Miss Hall, it has not. 

Miss Hall. I have just graduated from a complete 
commercial course and should like to be considered for 
the position. 

Brown. Have you had any experience ? 

Miss Hall. No, sir, but I am willing to work hard, 
work overtime if necessary, until I get on to things. 

Brown. Yes, I'm sure of that. I should like to try 
you on some dictation. 

Miss Hall. Yes, sir. 

(Brown hands her pencil and paper and she sits down 
at desk and waits for dictation. Brown dictates the 
letter he gave to Mrs. Due. Miss Hall takes it 
without any difficulty.) 

Brown. Mr. J. M. Morse, Newark, New Jersey. 
Dear Sir: I have your favor of the 12th instant and 
in reply will say that I have just received your check 
for $10,000. I have heard from Mr. U. R. Green that 
there is a shortage of woollen goods owing to the epi- 
demic. Hoping to hear from you if you have heard 
anything in regard to this report, I am, Yours truly. 
There, Miss Hall, I should like to have you transcribe 
it. I shall be in the adjoining room. 

(Miss Hall sits at machine. Starts to typewrite very 
rapidly.) 

Bill {surprised look on his face). I'll say she's on. 
She's got Miss Johns skinned a mile. Just listen to 
that machine go. (Bill looks at his watch and goes 
up to Miss Hall's desk.) Excuse me, Miss Hall, but 
it's time for me to go after the mail. Will you answer 
the 'phone if it rings? 

Miss Hall. Certainly; what is the number of this 
'phone ? 

Bill. L4821. 

(Miss Hall writes it 'dozvn. Bill leaves and Miss 
Hall goes to her work. 'Phone rings.) 



l6 TRYING THEM OUT 



Miss 
Will 



[ss Hall. L4821. — No, he just stepped out. 
you leave your number ? All right, Jimmy. 

{Goes back to machine.) 

Brown {at the door). Bill — oh — Bill 

Miss Hall. He's gone after the mail. 
Brown. Without being told — well, it's the first time 
in the history of Bill. 

(Exit.) 

(Miss Hall keeps on typewriting. Enter Bill carry- 
ing mail and a large package containing flowers 
which he puts on other desk and then starts with 
mail toward Brown's private office. ) 

Miss Hall. Jimmy wants you to call him. 

Bill {looks disgusted). Isn't that just like him to 
call during office hours. I guess I'll have to show him 
all these don'ts. " Don't use the telephone for private 
conversations." 

{Enter Brown. Miss Hall hands him letter.) 

Brown. That's fine, Miss Hall. Would you con- 
sider a salary of twenty dollars a week to start on with 
an increase as you progress? Our hours are from 
eight-thirty to five. 

Miss Hall. Yes, sir. 

(Bill goes over to desk and takes out a hunch of 
flowers and begins to arrange them on Miss Hall's 
desk. ) 

Brown. What's the grand idea, Bill ? 

Bill. Oh, you know what you said about the only 
way to keep a good stenographer, so I'm getting pre- 
pared. 



CITRTAIN 



Successful Plays for All Girls 

In Selecting Your Next Play Do Not Overlook This List 

YOUNG DOCTOR DEVINE. A Farce in Two Acts, 
by Mrs. E. J. H. Goodfellow. One of the most popular 
plays for girls. For nine female characters. Time in 
playing, thirty minutes. Scenery, ordinary interior. Mod- 
ern costumes. Girls in a boarding-school, learning that a 
young doctor is coming to vaccinate all the pupils, eagerly con- 
sult each other as to the manner of fascinating the physician. 
When the doctor appears upon the scene the pupils discover that 
the physician is a female practitioner. 

SISTER MASONS. A Burlesque in One Act, by Frank 
DuMONT. For eleven females. Time, thirty minutes. Costumes, 
fantastic gowns, or dominoes. Scene, interior. A grand expose 
of Masonry. Some women profess to learn the secrets of a 
Masonic lodge by hearing their husbands talk in their sleep, 
and they institute a similar organization. 

A COMMANDING POSITION. A Farcical Enter- 
tainment, by Amelia Sanfokd. For seven female char- 
acters and ten or more other ladies and children. Time, one 
hour. Costumes, modern. Scenes, easy interiors and one street 
scene. Marian Young gets tired living with her aunt. Miss 
Skinflint. She decides to "attain a commanding position." 
Marian tries hospital nursing, college settlement work and 
school teaching, but decides to go back to housework. 



HOW A WOMAN KEEPS A SECRET. A Comedy 
in One Act, by Frank Dumont. For ten female characters. 
Time, half an hour. Scene, an easy interior. Costumes, modern. 
Mabel Sweetly has just become engaged to Harold, but it's "the 
deepest kind of a secret." Before announcing it they must win 
the approval of Harold's uncle, now in Europe, or lose a possible 
ten thousand a year. At a tea Mabel meets her dearest friend. 
Maude sees Mabel has a secret, she coaxes and Mabel tells her. 
But Maude lets out the secret in a few minutes to another 
friend and so the secret travels. 

THE OXFORD AFFAIR. A Comedy in Three Acts, 
by Josephine H. Cobb and Jennie E. Paine. For eight female 
characters. Plays one hour and three-quarters. Scenes, inter- 
iors at a seaside hotel. Costumes, modern. The action of the 
play is located at a summer' resort. Alice Graham, in order to 
chaperon herself, poses as a widow, and Miss Oxford first claims 
her as a sister-in-law, then denounces her. The onerous duties 
of Miss Oxford, who attempts to serve as chaperon to Miss 
Howe and Miss Ashton in the face of many obstacles, furnish 
an evening of rare enjoyment. 



Unusually Good Enterl 



017 401 444 9 < 



Read One or More of These Before Deciding on 
Your Next Program 

GRADUATION DAY AT WOOD HILL SCHOOL. 

An Entertainment in Two Acts, by Ward Macauley. For six 
males and four females, with several minor parts. Time of 
.playing, two hours. Modern costumes. Simple interior scenes: 
may be presented in a hall without scenery. The unusual coni« 
bination of a real "entertainment," including music, recitations,' 
.etc., with an interesting Ibve story. The graduation exercises 
include short speeches, recitations, songs, funny interruptions,, 
and a comical speech by a country school trustee. 

EXAMINATION DAY AT VrOOD HILL SCHOOL. 

An h-ntertamment in One Act, by Ward Macauley. Eight mak 
and six female characters, with minor parts. Plays one hour 
Scene, an easy interior, or may be given without scenery. Cos- 
tumes, modern. Miss MarkS; the teacher, refuses to marry a 
trustee, who threatens to discharge her. The examination in- 
cludes recitations and songs, and brings out many funny answers 
to questions. At the close Robert Coleman, an old lover, claims 
the teacher. Very easy and very efifective, 

BACK TO THE COUNTRY STORE, A Rural Enter- 
tainment in Three Acts, by Ward Macauley. For four male 
and five ftiviale character?, with some supers. Time, two hours. 
Two scenes, both easy interiors. Can be played effectively with- 
out scenery. Costumes, -.nodern. All the prmcipal parts are 
sure hits. Quigley Higginbotham, known as "Quig," a clerk in 
a country store, aspires to be a great author or s-nger and 
decides to try his fortunes in New York. The last scene is in 
Quig's home. He returns a failure but is offered a partnership 
in the country store. He pops the question in the midst of a 
surprise party given in his honor. Easy to do and very funny. 

THE DISTRICT CONVENTION. A Farcical Sketch 
in One Act, by Frank Dumont. For eleven males and one 
female, or twelve males. Any number of other parts or super- 
numeraries may be added. Plays forty-five minutes. No special 
scenery is required, and the costumes and properties are all 
easy. The play shows an uproarious political nominating con- 
vention. The climax comes when a woman's rights cham 
pion, captures the convention. There is a great chance to bur- 
lesque modern politics and to work in local gags. Every 
part will make a hit. 

SI SLOCUM'S COUNTRY STORE. An Entertainment; 
in One Act, by Fra.nk Dumont. Eleven male and five female 
characters with supernumeraries. Several parts may be doubled. 
Plays one hour. Interior scene, or may be played without set 
scenery. Costumes, modern. The rehearsal for an entertain- 
ment in the village church gives plenty of opportunity for 
specialty work. A very jolly entertainment of the sort adapted 
to almost any place or occasion. 



